Daddy's Little Girl
by zammierox
Summary: She always resented her father ever since she realized who he really was. Her loving father had always simply been sculpting her into his perfect weapon. One-Shot


"Daddy's Little Girl" How nice. Her eyes moved past the child's shirt and back to the road, hand clenching slightly as it always did when she noticed a close bond between a father and a daughter.

It was a strong reminder of how she used to be - one of those carefree children, holding their father's hand. They had been close, him taking her everywhere with him whenever he was not at work. He would spoil her and always drop anything to play.

Sometimes he would get stressed out and would lock himself in his room, talking on the phone, but she never minded. He would always come back full of happiness and somewhat smug.

He'd pick her up and twirl her in the air before setting her down and squatting to her level to ask if she wanted ice cream. This continued as she grew up, minus the twirl when she got too big. This, and the games.

The games. All that time… He had always acted like they were the most fun things in the world and she had enjoyed them as well. Then, when she was 11 years old, her aunt came over for dinner.

Well, not her _real_ aunt, but the redhead had been a friend of her father's who had come over for years. Aunt Amanda wasn't quite as affectionate as her father, but she was nice and would play games with her sometimes too.

That one night Aunt Amanda had convinced her dad to let her go to public school. She had tuned them out – so excited by the prospect of going to a real school and making friends. She heard Aunt Amanda say something about "experience", "practice" and "people skills" but didn't dwell on it.

In the first weeks of school she made friends pretty well but was surprised when they made casual references to childhood shows or games that she had never heard of.

She had only played the games with her father that they had always played and the only TV she watched was the news. She quickly learned not to try and explain this, as it only seemed to get her weird looks.

And it seemed nobody was as close to his or her dad as she was. Then again, she had never known her mom, a Japanese woman who had left when she was 1. Her father never spoke of her.

It was frowned upon to be seen with ones parents, let alone spend so much time with them. Her friends could not understand why she chose 'hanging out' with her dad over going to a sleepover with them.

She couldn't tell them that she and her father had already planned to play one of her favorite games and that she honestly enjoyed being in his company.

By her third year she had grown up considerably. There was always an excuse to as to why she couldn't go with her friends: a doctor's appointment, an ortho check up, and, with a roll of her eyes, father-daughter bonding time.

That was the closest she ever came to the truth because it _was_ like father-daughter bonding time except it wasn't forced; she_ wanted _to spend time with her father. She knew she had to do lie to adapt and she told her dad that, everything. Surprisingly, instead of being hurt he said he was proud of her.

She actually was getting somewhat tired of the games. They were still fun, but she wasn't always jumping at the chance to play.

Her father's hurt expression kept her from saying 'no'. But then she grew smarter and out of her childhood ignorance. She began to see the games for what they really were - well, almost.

She knew it wasn't normal to be able to put together a gun at lightning speed and hack into a secure database. She still had not known what it was all for, though.

Why would her father raise her and call these games? It was more like _training_. And then she found out. The day her father had said they were moving - going on an adventure. That's when she got to Division.

Even though she had stupidly believed at the time that Division was good, she couldn't have helped but been a little crushed knowing her loving father had only been preparing her her whole life - that even the little affectionate moments were or added up to some kind of test.

That dirty little bast- And the worst part was that she fell for it! Fell for the entire charade.

Even "Aunt" Amanda had been in on it. And then she grew smarter; realized the real intents of Division...and Da-Percy. Even his name caused her to have a rush of anger and hate. Oh, she wanted to kill him all over again.

Ha, everybody thought she wanted to take down Division - which she did, but she was taking Daddy Dearest along with his precious organization.

It used to be one of her sick fantasies to see Percy on his knees in front of her as she and Michael stood side-by-side and each pointed a gun at him in vengeance.

It would break him seeing his life's work go down the drain and to see her happy about it. And to see she had converted Michael, to learn his second-in-command was a traitor... And she would shoot him.

Or, they both would. And right before he'd talk of the old days when she was his baby girl and of all the good times - trying to exploit her compassion. But she wouldn't waver.

And she knew that for sure because she knew she wasn't kidding herself. After all, it wasn't just a fantasy anymore - it was reality.

She had needed to get away, jumping in the car as Michael cleaned up the mess. And now she was driving, wondering what she had become - if she had become like her father: a heartless killer.

But she couldn't be like Percy - that had to change. Because she was tired of his games that they still had played. Because now she had finally beat him for the first time and last time.

Game Over, Daddy.


End file.
